


black leather with a side of vampire

by mysoulrunswithwolves



Series: love-bites and legwarmers [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, akaken snuggles, human disaster oikawa tooru, overly affectionate vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysoulrunswithwolves/pseuds/mysoulrunswithwolves
Summary: “I’ll admit, there is no way we can find enough black leather for Oikawa to shimmy his way into in the week we have left before Halloween.” Kuroo says, running his fingers through the mess on his head. “Not if we want to like, commit to the aesthetic of Chat Noir.” alternatively, the constant struggles of Iwaizumi HajimeToday in love-bites and legwarmers: Human Disaster™ Oikawa Tooru, akaken snuggles, and grossly understated generalizations





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this chapter between 1am and 3am, so yeah
> 
> I'm very tired. 
> 
> Today in love-bites and legwarmers: Human Disaster™ Oikawa Tooru, akaken snuggles, and grossly understated generalizations

All Hajime wants, really, is for his friends to stop being _complete_ disasters for one day.

It’s incredibly upsetting to him that the only time, _literally the only time_ , he gets any peace from them is when he’s in his engineering classes, which are bad enough on their own, but worse when _that’s_ your safe refuge form the walking Human Disaster™ that is, among others, Oikawa _fucking_ Tooru.

He’s sitting in his applied mechanics class when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, expecting to see an email notification. To his immediate regret, he sees that it’s a text from Kuroo. Before he can stop his fingers, they swipe open the text message out of habit, and he watches in despair as Kuroo receives the read receipt. Hajime thinks that the little checkmark turning from blue to grey must be the final sign that ushers in the apocalypse.                 

From: **Kuroo**

bro

I kno ur reading this

do you want to

liek

go to blood bag wit us tonite

 

Hajime grits his teeth as his phone buzzes repeatedly with all of the text messages Kuroo sends in place of the one he could have sent because he knows how much that annoys Hajime.

To: **Kuroo**

Don’t call me bro

From: **Kuroo**

okay but

bruh

the blood puddle

we r all going

To: **Kuroo**

Im in class we will talk abt this when I get home

Let me fail my classes in peace

 

He sighs, setting his phone down on his notebook he attempts to focus back in on what his professor is saying. He makes it two minutes before the repeated buzzing makes him angrily pick up his phone again, physically repressing a growl.

 

From: **Hootie**

So dancing tonite

Ur coming rite

cuz

gon be a party

To: **Hootie**

Did Kuroo put you up to this

He did, didn’t he

From: **Hootie**

Bro you gotta chill

We just wanna kno

 

Hajime feels the vein in his head that usually only starts to throb on Oikawa's worst day being to throb dully.

 

To: **Hootie**

I hate you all

So much

 

“Okay but imagine this.” Kuroo says, holding up his hands to get the room’s attention. “Oikawa as _Chat Noir_ for Halloween this year.”

“Only if Iwa-chan goes as ladybug.”

Every eye in the room turns to look at Hajime, who, _very_ slowly, locks the front door behind him as he walks in, done with classes for the day. “If you think,” he begins, “that I am for one second going to put on a spandex ladybug outfit you are _very_ wrong.”

“But Iwa-chan~!” Oikawa pouts up at him from where he’s sitting at the kitchen table, pretending to do work on the laptop in front of him.

“No.”

“Do it for the ship, Iwa!” Bokuto yells from his room down the hall. “You know you want to.”

“I want to state, for the record, that I have no wish to do this at all.” Hajime states emphatically, walking through their kitchen and living area to his room across the hall from Bokuto’s. As he sets down his textbooks and toes off his shoes, he hears the sound of Akaashi returning from dance rehearsal and Kuroo catching him up on the latest attempt to put Hajime into an early grave. Hoping for reinforcement, he wanders back out into the main room.

Akaashi looks between Hajime and Oikawa, eyes narrowing slightly before saying “Hot.”

Kuroo roars with laughter, Oikawa grins in triumph, flashing Hajime a peace sign, and even Kenma cracks a smile from where he’s sitting curled into the corner of the couch. Akaashi, for his part, drops his dance bag on the floor by the door and walks over to the couch where he snuggles up with Kenma.

Hajime doesn’t know what he did, _exactly_ , in his past life to deserve this fresh hell, but it must have been bad. “This is the most pointless conversation. There is nothing between me and Shittykawa over there to ship.”

“Lies.” Say Kuroo and Oikawa at the same time.

“I mean,” Akaashi starts from where he’s curled himself around Kenma, his oversized cream sweater slipping off of one shoulder. “You do sleep together most nights.”

“That,” seethes Hajime, “is because Oikawa doesn’t know the meaning of personal space.”

“RUDE Iwa-chan.” Oikawa slaps a hand on the table. “You _know_ I get cold at night.”

“Then _put on a shirt_ when you sleep.” Hajime hisses, “Like a _normal_ person.”

“Iwa-chan my skin needs to _breathe_ at night you know I can’t do that.”

The sound that escapes from Hajime is frustration in its purest form.

“And he says they’re not in a relationship.” Kuroo says, with that smirk that always makes Hajime want to punch him right in between his perfect golden eyes.

“Kenma can you back me up here?” Hajime turns to the only person in the room who is actually sane. “It’s obvious this is a toxic friendship.”

Kenma shrugs. “I can ship it, actually.”

“Et tu, Kenma?” Hajime whispers, betrayed when he least expects it.

“It’s cannon!” Bokuto yells, emerging from his room to hoot his way excitedly into the room. “You have to do it!”

“No.” Is all Hajime can say, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’ll admit, there is no way we can find enough black leather for Oikawa to shimmy his way into in the week we have left before Halloween.” Kuroo says, running his fingers through the mess on his head. “Not if we want to like, _commit_ to the aesthetic of Chat Noir.”

“I have enough.”

Complete silence.

Complete and utter silence follows the words that Akaashi so casually drops into the room like a proverbial atomic bomb.

There is another beat of silence before everyone flips their collective shit.

* * *

“What time do we need to be at the club?”

“I told Suga that I’d pick him up at 9, I don’t really care when you guys show up.”

Now that calm has been somewhat restored to the room, Kuroo begins to iron out the details of their Friday night with Akaashi while Iwaizumi reluctantly helps Oikawa with his calculus homework.

“Who is this Suga you keep mentioning?” Kuroo asks from where he lays sprawled on the floor in front of the couch.

“He’s another dance major that Keiji has like, all of his classes with.” Says Koutarou, also sprawled on the floor with his head pillowed on Kuroo’s stomach and his feet propped up on the couch that Akaashi and Kenma are curled up on together.

“Is he human?” Kuroo asks curiously.

“Yeah…” Akaashi says, “why do you ask?”

“It’s just surprising, that’s all.”

Koutarou watches as Akaashi twitches an eyebrow in annoyance. “I have other human friends besides Bo.”

“Yes but is he pretty enough to hang with us?” Asks Oikawa, worried about the Important Things in life.

Akaashi rolls his eyes, about to respond when Iwaizumi flicks Oikawa on the nose. “Literally _no one_ asked you Oikawa, do your homework.”

Kuroo chuckles, making Koutarou’s head bounce with the movement, the sensation causing him to giggle. Koutarou is aware that conversation continues around him, but he and Kuroo are too lost in their endless chain of giggles for him to tune back in until they’ve both calmed down enough to pay attention again.

“—just find it really annoying,” Akaashi says, brow furrowed. Kenma reaches up with a finger and smooths out the crease. Akaashi begins to run his fingers through Kenma’s hair in response, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his head absentmindedly.

“What do you find annoying?” Kuroo asks, also regaining control.

“Keiji-chan has to do extra rehearsals for some hip hop competition that’s coming up next month,” Oikawa says, nose still buried in his calculus textbook.

“That’s a grossly understated generalization, but that’s the essence of it,” Akaashi says, yawning sleepily.

“You’re a grossly understated generalization,” Koutarou says at the same moment Kuroo does. He sits up, hooting excitedly, and turns to see Kuroo sitting up and staring excitedly back at him. “ _BRO._ ”

“ _Brokuto!”_

Koutarou has just enough time to brace before Kuroo launches himself into Koutarou’s arms, giving him a few hearty slaps on the back.

“I think I’ll need a nap before we go out tonight.” Akaashi says, ignoring Koutarou and Kuroo and their brofest happening in front of him. “Join me, Kenma?”

Koutarou sees, over Kuroo’s shoulder, Kenma nod minutely in agreement before untangling himself from Akaashi and pulling him behind him as they both head downstairs to Kenma’s room.

“Bruh.” Says Kuroo.

“ _Bro._ ”

Behind them, Koutarou hears the sound of Iwaizumi’s head hitting the table.

* * *

Kozume Kenma enjoys the simple things in life.

Things like late afternoon naps, new video games, and giant mugs of tea.

He also enjoys Akaashi Keiji in most forms of his existence, but when he’s existing in day-old eyeliner and giant sweaters, well, those are the days that shine brightest for Kenma.

By an official decree—that mainly consisted of _if anyone can beat me at Mario Kart you can veto_ —Kenma claimed the entire basement of their house to himself. As wonderful as it was to live with childhood friends, there were times when Kenma needed to be alone and away from the constant Human Disaster™ that was Oikawa Tooru, among others, especially when he has three programing projects and a midterm to ace. His dominion over the basement was possible largely because of the size of the house and the fact that there are only six of them in the house.

The tranquility of the space is why Akaashi follows him willingly into the darkness, why he links their hands together and moves quietly by his side.

His room is cold, and Akaashi shivers in his sweater while Kenma turns on his space heater. Kenma collapses on the bed and pulls like, ten blankets on top of himself, and also Akaashi somewhere between blanket five and seven. Kenma lies curled on his side under the blankets, their weight soothing him in a way few things can, besides Kuro or Akaashi. The bed jostles as Akaashi struggles under the blankets as he rolls to face Kenma, noses almost touching and hands entwined between them.

“How was your day?” Akaashi asks quietly, his thumb stroking the back of Kenma’s hand.

Kenma sighs, thinking over his classes and projects. He moves closer to Akaashi, burying his nose in the soft material of Akaashi’s sweater and tangling their legs together. “Classes were boring, and my projects are all time consuming and mundane so I’m annoyed about that.” Akaashi adjusts his arms until one is under Kenma’s head, the other resting lightly on his waist.

“This is what happens when you’ve been writing in code since high school, Kenma.” Akaashi says, placing a small kiss on his forehead. “It’s so hard to be so good at things, isn’t it.”

Kenma just sighs at that, using a finger to poke Akaashi lightly in the ribs. “What about you, how are your dance classes?”

It’s hard to see in the dim lighting from the lone window in his bedroom, but Kenma swears he can see Akaashi blush faintly when he looks up at him after Akaashi pauses slightly too long. “Classes are good. Hip hop is kicking my butt right now.” He tries to deflect, but Kenma isn’t fooled.

“What happened.” Kenma asks, familiar with the way Akaashi gets when he needs to talk but doesn’t know how. “Keiji, talk to me.”

“So, you know Suga right?” Akaashi hedges, speaking softly in the quiet of the room.

“I don’t know him, but you’ve mentioned him a few times now.”

“So, today in our ballet class he asked me how often I need to feed.”

“Is he the friend you have that’s a familiar to a different coven of vampires?” Akaashi nods his head in response to Kenma’s question. “Well that’s not so odd.”

“Right, but he’s feeding multiple vampires in a week.”

“Again, not a huge deal as long as they’re replenishing him.” Kenma begins to feel how Akaashi is still avoiding something in regards to Suga. “What else?’

“Well I was healing some marks left over from Daichi, and I maybe may have kissed him.”

“Hot.”

“Yeah, it was an _amazing_ kiss.” Akaashi says, shifting slightly and yawning.

“You should tap that.” He says sleepily. He’s feeling very warm and comfortable, under all of the blankets and tangled around Akaashi.  

Akaashi hums in response, starting to drift off. As Kenma feels sleep claim him, the last thing he registers is Akaashi breathing into his hair and placing one last sleepy kiss to the top of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR THE KUDOS AND COMMENTS ON THAT LAST CHAPTER THEY GAVE ME LIFE
> 
> next time in love-bites and legwarmers: Mom!Suga, Kageyama angst, and the rare appearance of yams
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/wolfstar_soul) and [Tumblr](https://mysoulrunswithwolves.tumblr.com)


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